The Downside of Comedy
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: When Harley Quinn is removed from his life, the Joker is forced to consider why he misses his favorite punchline, and why the jokes that are Harley and Batman matter so much to him.
1. Chapter 1

**The Downside of Comedy**

It had got out of hand so quickly. That was the problem with working with the Joker, thought Poison Ivy, as she sprinted her way through the burning building, with flaming rubble crashing around her. The Clown Prince of Crime delighted in chaos and madness, and while Ivy was no great fan of order, she liked a certain method in her madness, and a certain control over her chaos. The same could not be said for the Joker, whose persona made him completely wild and unpredictable, as well as incredibly dangerous. Which was fine, Ivy couldn't care less if His Eminence blew himself into a million tiny pieces. It only bothered her when her life was put in jeopardy because of his recklessness. Or Harley's. And at the moment, they both were, as Harley ran behind her, narrowly avoiding a flaming mass falling onto her head.

Ivy at least hoped the Bat was dead. He was the reason J had started the fire, after Batman had decided to crash in on their burglary at the bank. Bats had demanded that they hand over the cash, and Joker had said over his dead body, and then seemed determine to make the joke come true by using his flamethrower on the stack of money next to them. The inferno had quickly spread throughout the building, but Ivy, Harley, and Joker had all made a dash for the exit before they could see what had happened to Batman.

She did see, the moment she got outside. She had turned back to make sure Harley was ok, and was immediately seized around the wrist by none other than the Caped Crusader.

"Dammit, you're supposed to be dead!" hissed Ivy, glaring at him. She turned around again to see Harley rushing toward them, stopping suddenly when she saw Batman.

"Aw geez, the fire didn't solve our pest control problem, Mr…" she began, looking behind her. Her face fell in horror when she realized that the Joker was still in the building.

And at that moment a huge chunk of the roof collapsed, sending a burst of flame up into the sky. "Mr. J!" shrieked Harley, starting forward, but Ivy grabbed her.

"Don't you dare!" she cried. "You'll never make it outta there alive!"

"Let go, Red, he needs me!" screamed Harley, struggling fiercely.

"Harley, I won't let you throw your life away…"

"He needs me, Red!" shouted Harley, breaking away from her with a sudden burst of energy. She rushed back into the burning building.

"Harley!" screamed Ivy, starting forward, but Batman held her tightly.

"Don't," he muttered. "It's too dangerous."

"Then you go in there and get them!" cried Ivy, rounding on him. "Bats, you gotta save them! You can't let them die!"

Batman nodded, running toward the doorway. It suddenly fell in on itself, blocking the entrance and, for Joker and Harley, the exit. Batman stared at it in dismay, and then rushed around trying to find another way in or out. He couldn't see one. He couldn't get back into them, and he didn't want to risk blowing one of the walls out in case the ceiling collapsed. They were trapped.

For the first time in his life, Batman felt truly powerless. All he could do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Harley was coughing, trying to make out the figure of the Joker through the smoke and the flame. She was suddenly grabbed by her hat and pulled backward. "What're you doing back in here, you worthless dame?" hissed a familiar voice. "Thought you got outside!"

"I came back for you, puddin'," she gasped.

"I just stopped to pick up a few thousand grand – no point in letting it all go up in smoke," chuckled Joker, holding open his coat stuffed with bills. "Now c'mon, you dumb broad, we need to get outta here before the whole place collapses."

As he spoke, the doorway suddenly caved in. "Ok," he said, slowly. "Time for Plan B."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card, which he threw at the wall. It suddenly exploded, leaving a hole big enough to crawl through.

"C'mon, Harley!" he shouted, crouching down.

Harley suddenly saw the ceiling above him begin to crack. "Mr. J, look out!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him and knocking him out of the way just in time. A huge chunk of the roof suddenly landed on her, burying her completely.

"Harley!" shouted Joker, struggling to his feet and rushing over to the pile of rubble. He tore it away and revealed her at last. She was covered in cuts and bleeding heavily, and her breathing was labored. There was a strange look in her eyes, and they seemed to be growing glassier.

"Mr…J…" she gasped.

"Shh, shh, it's ok, kiddo," he murmured, picking her up gently. "We're getting you outta here."

"Mr. J, it hurts," she whispered, flinching. "I can't move. I can't feel…anything…I…I think I'm…dying."

"Will you shut up, you useless broad?" he snapped. "Don't say crap like that! This ain't no worse than one of my beatings! You'll recover."

"Not this time, Mr. J," she whispered, as the light in her eyes grew fainter and she smiled sadly.

"C'mon kid, stay with me," he murmured, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Look at me. You ain't gonna die, you hear me, you dumb blonde? You ain't dying. Not like this. Your death is gonna be a masterpiece, a killer gag, I'm gonna laugh about it for years. But this…I ain't gonna let it happen like this. This ain't funny. I ain't laughing."

She smiled again sadly. "Sorry, Mr. J. I always wanted to make you laugh, puddin'. I'm sorry I could never do that. I'm sorry I was never funny, even at the end, I ain't funny…"

"I said don't talk like that, you worthless dame!" he shouted. "You do what I tell you! And I'm telling you to hang on, kid!"

She hissed in pain. "I'm sorry, puddin'," she repeated, with tears in her eyes. "I don't wanna leave you. But I think I gotta. I saw my life flash before my eyes and everything…"

She gasped again, shutting her eyes tightly in agony. She opened them, the light in them veiled and fading fast. She slowly managed to raise a hand to his face. "I saw my life flash before my eyes," she whispered, as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I saw it all again, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And every second of it was with you. It made me so happy, Mr. J. So happy that I didn't waste of a moment of it." She smiled. "I love you, puddin'," she breathed.

Her hand dropped as her eyes shut. She was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Poison Ivy stared at the flaming wreckage of the building, her heart hammering in her throat. She clutched Batman's hand tightly, and he didn't draw it away, or attempt to handcuff her. At that moment, they weren't hero and villain. They were two human beings concerned for the welfare of two other human beings. That was all.

Ivy suddenly saw a figure emerge from the rubble, cradling another figure gently in its arms. She realized who it was, and her heart plummeted. "No," she gasped, rushing forward. "No!"

"No!" she shrieked again, as Joker gently lay Harley's body on the ground. "No! Oh God, please, no! Harley! Harley, c'mon, wake up! Harley, please, don't do this to me! Oh God, no!"

Her agony instantly turned to blind rage, and she suddenly leapt at Joker, punching him repeatedly. "It shoulda been you!" she screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks. "It shoulda been you! Why wasn't it you?!"

Batman ripped her off him, holding her back, in what was actually more of an embrace than a restraint. "It won't do any good, Ivy," he whispered.

Joker suddenly laughed hysterically. "Yeah, you're right, Pammie!" he chuckled. "It shoulda been me! Some gag, huh, killing off the wrong one? Somebody up there has got a wicked sense of humor!"

He kept laughing, so hard he doubled over. He struggled to breathe in between laughs and then fell to his knees, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Ivy had rushed to attack him again when he had started laughing, but Batman still held her tightly. She unleashed a torrent of abuse at Joker, and then was consumed by despair, sinking to the ground and sobbing. Batman went slowly over to Harley's body and bent over her, gently feeling her pulse.

"She's not dead," he murmured.

"What?" gasped Ivy, lifting her head.

"She's not dead," he repeated, lifting up the body carefully. "But she needs to get to the hospital immediately. Are you coming?"

Ivy nodded vehemently, leaping to her feet. Batman looked at Joker, who just laughed again. "Yeah, hospital and then back to Arkham. Thanks but no thanks, Bats."

"I can't believe you!" hissed Ivy. "You won't even come to the hospital to see if your girlfriend lives or dies?"

He shrugged. "Got a gag either way, so I don't really mind, Pammie," he murmured, grinning. "The joke's the only thing that matters to me, you know that."

Ivy glared at him. "You're a selfish monster," she hissed.

"Sticks and stones, Pammie," he murmured, grinning. "They won't break my bones, but they will break Harley's, and probably kill her if you don't stop calling me names and get her to the hospital. And then who would the monster be, huh, Pammie? C'mon, hurry up, Bats. Harley ain't ever had much in the way of brain cells – you better make sure she don't lose anymore of the few she has left."

Batman stared at him, and then turned and carried Harley away without another word, with Ivy following behind him. They heard Joker laughing after them, the most callous, mocking, terrible sound in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

"How is Miss Quinn, sir?" asked Alfred as Batman was about to leave. "Has there been any change?"

"That's what I'm going to go see," murmured Batman. "But I doubt it. She's been in a coma for five weeks. The doctors say there's no change in her brain activity, and frankly they don't think it's very likely. I don't know what to do, Alfred. Obviously I don't have the authority to pull the plug on her, but then again no one does. She's not my responsibility, but she is. She's got no one else who cares."

"Miss Isley…"

"Doesn't have any more authority over her than I do," interrupted Batman. "And she's been re-incarcerated. I stop by and let her know that nothing's changed, but I really can't do anything more than that."

"If you did have the authority, sir," said Alfred, slowly. "You wouldn't deprive her of her life, even if it was in a vegetative state. Would you?"

Batman paused. "Of course not, Alfred," he murmured. "You know my code. But sometimes I wonder if…"

"If?" prompted Alfred.

"If she might not be better off dead," he whispered. "If she does regain consciousness, it'll be to the nightmare of her life, her dependency on that monster, her constant abuse and humiliation at his hands. He doesn't care about her, Alfred. If you could have seen his face, how funny he found the whole thing, how little he cared…"

"I believe it, sir," murmured Alfred. "The Joker is many things, but a compassionate man, he is not. I don't believe him capable of loving anyone."

"No," agreed Batman. "But Quinn is never going to see that. Maybe she's better off like this."

He climbed into the Batmobile and left without another word. Arriving at the hospital outside visiting hours, he grappled up to the 29th floor, where Harley's room was, and climbed through the window.

He was surprised to smell smoke. He flicked on the lights to see the Joker seated on a chair by Harley's bed, leaning back and casually smoking a cigar. His face lit up when he saw Batman.

"Batsy!" he exclaimed. "This is a surprise! Come to check on the patient, have you? Ain't you a thoughtful guy! Wanna cigar?"

"I'm sure the smoke can't be helping," muttered Batman. "It's not allowed in hospitals."

Joker chuckled. "She's brain-dead – can't do her any harm," he laughed, nodding at Harley. "And it helps me drown out the smell. I hate the stink of hospitals," he muttered. "Sterile and nasty. Just like your mind, huh, Batsy?" he giggled.

He exhaled and Batman looked at him. "Why are you here?" he murmured, quietly.

"Gotta be here, don't I?" he said, shrugging. "Just in case Sleeping Beauty here decides to wake up. She'd wanna see my face. And I have to keep replacing the flower every night," he said, nodding at the single red rose on her bedside table. "Can't have Harley waking up to dead flowers. That would be tacky. And it'd ruin the joke. See the card?" he said, nodding at the vase.

Batman went over to it and read _Feel Better Soon. – J._

"I wrote that and left it attached to a red rose after Harley and me had that big bust up over her trying to kill you," he explained. "You remember I shoved her outta a window."

"Yes," said Batman. "And I remember being utterly baffled when she came back to you after that."

Joker chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a charmer, Batsy," he grinned. "Anyway, I thought it would be a nice gag for Harley to wake up to that, just like all those years ago. Maybe confuse her for a bit coming outta her coma, thinking she'd gone back in time or something, like in that TV show about the cop in the coma going back to the 70s. And then I'd reveal myself and shout, 'Surprise!' and she'd laugh and say, 'Good gag, Mr. J!' And it would be a good gag, too."

He puffed on his cigar again. "You think it's a good idea to try to confuse and then surprise a recovering coma patient?" asked Batman.

Joker waved his hand. "Well, not an ordinary one, naturally. But Harley can take it. She can take a lotta crap. You'd be surprised, Batsy, how tough that little cookie is. I mean, a whole roof fell on her, and she still ain't dead. She's got steel inside her. Metaphorically speaking, of course, not like a steel plate or anything!" he chuckled.

Batman stared at him, and then sat down opposite him. "Tell me something. And tell me the truth. You don't care about her, do you? You don't love her, not like normal people love other people."

"Normal people? Nah, I don't know nothing about how normal people do stuff," laughed Joker. "Nothing I do is normal, so I dunno why you'd expect my love for Harley to be. As for caring about her…"

He sighed. "How can I explain it to _you?_" he murmured, inhaling the cigar. "You don't get jokes. You don't ever get jokes, so you won't be able to understand. Your tiny Bat brain won't be able to comprehend it. Well, lemme try to explain it simply. Once a long time ago I thought you were dead, Bats. I thought you had been killed by some weasely, insignificant loser, who took my right to kill you away from me. That _is_ my right, Bats, you know and I know it. I like to think we'll both die together in some sort of murder-suicide pact, perhaps, but I digress. This loser didn't only take away my right, he took away my joke. Now you know me well enough, Bats, to know that for me, it's all about the jokes. I don't take anything in life seriously apart from the jokes. And when someone ruins them for me, they pay. I made that weasel pay when I thought he killed you. I made Harley pay when she tried to kill you. And of course one day you're gonna pay big time for spoiling all my fun. But see, I wasn't mad at the weasel or at Harley for trying to kill _you_, per se. I don't care about you personally, Bats. If I'm honest, I find you a bit too serious, too self-righteous. You need to loosen up and crack a smile every once in a while. I'd hate to casually hang out with you, or chat with you at a dinner party. You're not a chatter, Bats, you're the strong, silent type. And I've never really liked that. So although it may look like I'm really obsessed with you, the truth is, I don't really care about you. All I care about is the joke that you are. My joke, with my punchline, that will come eventually, and that will be all the more funny because it took so long to set up. Y'know, building up suspense only makes the climax that much more satisfying, doncha?" he chuckled.

He inhaled from his cigar again. "And same goes with Harley," he said, nodding at her. "I don't care about her, no. She's got an irritating voice. She's a clingy, annoying dame who always wants my attention and has no regard for personal space. She's a ditz more often than not, and clumsy much more than a former gymnast should be. She talks on and on incessantly about the most pointless, boring crap. And just between you and me, Bats, man to man, y'know, she's a bit of a nymphomaniac. Never satisfied in the bedroom. Always nagging me for it. Always."

He exhaled slowly. "But just like you, Bats, I care about her as a joke. As my joke. She was always my joke. From the day I first began seducing her, and broke her mind, she became my joke. I mean, that was funny, doncha think? A hot little shrink like her, falling for her patient, a crazy, homicidal nutjob like me. And then taking on the whole clown persona – it was a great gag! And all my setup! Making her my own little devoted sidekick, a gal who was literally crazy for me, I mean, c'mon, Bats, that's funny! You gotta see the joke in that, right? Even you have gotta see the joke in that?"

Batman didn't respond, and so Joker shrugged and continued. "So the punchline to her joke was gonna be something sweet. Something really funny. I had a few options going around in my head, but I haven't been able to decide on one yet."

"What kind of options?" asked Batman, quietly.

He shrugged again. "Oh, I dunno. I was gonna marry her."

"Marry her?" repeated Batman.

"Yeah. Give her everything her little heart desired, and then, on the happiest day of her life, shoot her in the face. It would be hysterical, watching the truth slowly sink into her dying eyes, watching her get that final joke!" He chuckled.

"That's just cruel," muttered Batman. "And crazy."

"Crazy, maybe. But on a scale of 1 to funny, hilarious!" laughed Joker. "Sorry you don't get it, Bats. Harley would. That's one of the few good things about her, y'know. She usually gets the jokes."

He puffed on his cigar in silence. "Did I ever tell you about the downside of comedy, Bats?" he murmured. "You're always taking shots from folks who just don't get the joke. You, your precious batty family, the police, the media, the doctors, everyone. Nobody gets the jokes. Just Harley and me. And now some heckler's thought it's really funny to interrupt my joke before I've delivered my punchline, to take her away from me before my joke is finished. But it ain't funny. I ain't laughing."

"If you only think about her as some cruel joke, I hope she never wakes up," Batman murmured. "She deserves better."

Joker chuckled. "People always say that," he murmured. "But you didn't see her when she was dying, Bats. Or thought she was. She was so…happy. She told me she was happy because she had spent every moment of her life with me. Yeah, maybe I ain't what she deserves. But who said getting what we deserve would make us happy? Heck, Bats, being the hero that you are, most people probably think you deserve a carefree life without the interference of homicidal lunatics. But would that make you happy? I don't think it would."

Batman was silent. Joker suddenly sighed loudly. "I'm sick of this crap," he muttered, throwing the cigar on the ground and grinding it under his shoe. "I'm sick of her just lying there and doing nothing. Joke's got old. Got any ideas for waking her up, Bats?"

"Are you insane?" demanded Batman.

"Dumb question, Bats," chuckled Joker. "C'mon, she's been in this coma for weeks and the doctors haven't been able to wake her up! They're obviously doing it wrong, but then what do you expect from doctors? Useless quacks, the lot of them. Oooh, I know! I'll try using my joy buzzer!" he chuckled, reaching inside his jacket. "That should jolt her awake!"

Batman snatched it away from him. "You are not going to electrocute a coma patient!" he snapped.

"Aw, but Bats, we gotta try something!" he exclaimed. "You got any Bat gadgets for crap like this? The Bat-Coma-Waker-Upper, maybe? The Bat-Brain-Starter? The Batshocker? C'mon, help me out here! Maybe slapping her would help. It usually does…"

"I am not going to let you randomly attack a woman in a coma!" said Batman, intercepting his hand.

"You're no fun, Bats, you know that?" demanded Joker, glaring at him. "How the hell else am I supposed to wake her up?"

"I don't know!" snapped Batman. "I'm not a doctor! But I know they're doing all they can, and whatever you do is not going to help!"

Joker sighed again, irritated. "Harley!" he shouted at her. "Harley, you worthless blonde, I know you can hear me! Just wake up, would ya? Mr. J is bored of this!"

"Joker, this is stupid," said Batman. "Shouting and hitting is not going to help her."

"Have you got a better idea?" demanded Joker. "C'mon, rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!" he shouted, shaking her gently.

"Why don't you just try true love's kiss?" muttered Batman, sarcastically.

Joker looked at him. "What, you and me, or me and Harley?" he giggled. "I'm just kidding, Bats!"

He turned back to look at Harley and then shrugged. "Worth a shot," he said.

He bent over her gently and brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her tenderly.

And to Batman's astonishment, Harley's eyes slowly fluttered open. "M…Mistah J?" she breathed, sleepily, her eyes fixing on him. She smiled softly. "Oh, Mr. J," she whispered.

"Just call me Prince Charming, sweets," he whispered, grinning and kissing her again.

Batman stared at them. "I don't…believe it," he stammered.

Joker chuckled, turning to smile at him. "Told you, Bats," he said. "Harley understands a good joke. And me being Prince Charming is a pretty good joke, huh, baby?"

"Not a joke to me, puddin'," she murmured, gazing at him in adoration.

"Well…Harley…it's good to see you've recovered," said Batman, slowly. "We'll leave you here to rest – Joker has an appointment at Arkham."

"You ain't taking away puddin'!" snapped Harley, hugging him tightly. "I want him to stay, Bats, or I'll fall back into my coma!"

"You can't threaten me with…"

"Yeah, I can!" interrupted Harley. "So why don't you just beat it, Bats, before I have a relapse? It's Mr. J who cured me, so I need him to stay," she whispered, beaming at him.

Batman was about to object, but then realized that he couldn't really explain Harley's recovery from a medical point of view, and to all intents and purposes, the Joker had cured her. Who was to say that she wouldn't relapse if he took him away? None of it made any sense. But then what had he actually expected from Joker and Harley?

He sighed, heading for the window. "One night," he said. "But tomorrow night, Joker, I'm taking you back to Arkham."

"I look forward to it, Bats!" chuckled Joker.

"Y'know, puddin', being in that coma has left your Harley's engine in a pretty sad state," breathed Harley, pulling him onto the bed. "It needs a good revving, puddin'."

Joker glanced at Batman. "Always," he repeated, seriously. Then he grinned and turned back to Harley. "Well, allow me, pumpkin pie. Tell me when it starts to hurt, and I'll do it harder!"

Batman flew out the window, leaving them together, their mutual laughter echoing into the night.

**The End**


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